Ready or Not (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)
by ilna
Summary: Thanksgiving preparations begin in earnest at the McGarrett/Rollins home.


**Notes:** Readers and REAL McRollers - your support knows no bounds and I appreciate you all!

Mari and Sammy - your friendship knows no bounds and I am truly grateful for it every day!

Full credit to Mari for the sleeping arrangements in this one :-)

Hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>Ready or Not (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)<em>

On Sunday afternoon, Catherine was sitting on the sofa as Steve came into the living room.

"Vacuuming is done," he announced and then noticed she was focused on her laptop. "Hey, thought you were on dusting duty."

"It's done," she said without looking up.

He made an amused face at her efficiency.

"Oh, I was afraid of this," she said, her gaze on the screen.

"What?" he asked, approaching the sofa.

She looked up at him, gesturing as she spoke. "I asked Mom to send me a grocery list, mostly for Thanksgiving, but if she and Grandma Ang wanted to make anything else while they're here, then we could get most of the stuff ahead of time."

"Okay. What's the problem?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"Look at this," she said and turned the screen to show him an email attachment. "She's got food for the whole ten days planned out. I mean, this is supposed to be a vacation for them. I don't want her and Gram cooking every meal."

He examined the document and his mouth twitched up in a smile. "Looks like it's not _every_ meal. She's worked in a couple optional restaurants."

"Yeah, keyword is 'optional'." She sighed. Glancing at him, she noticed his expression. "What are you smirking at?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "Just nice to be reminded you came by your organizational skills honestly," he teased.

She rolled her eyes slightly and turned the laptop back toward her. She began highlighting and deleting text on the document.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm making a few changes to the schedule."

Once satisfied, she sat back and looked over what was left. "This is still a pretty sizable list," she said.

"Divide and conquer." He hit his thighs once with both hands and stood. "Send me half of it and we'll head to Foodland."

* * *

><p>As Steve turned the truck onto Ala Moana Boulevard, Catherine furrowed her brow in confusion.<p>

"Taking the long way round?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Foodland's in the other direction," she said, motioning behind them.

"We need to pick up something else first."

"We do?"

"I had a thought about sleeping arrangements."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Something that beats us sleeping on the sofa for ten days," he said with a quick glance at her, his lips quirked in a smile.

"Do tell," she said, raising her eyebrows in question.

"Just . . . you'll see."

A few minutes later he pulled into the lot at Sports Authority. After parking, they headed for the store.

"You wanna camp out on the beach?" Catherine asked as they walked through the automatic doors.

Steve chuckled. "No." He paused. "Although . . ."

She smiled and shrugged

"No," he said again. "Follow me."

He led her through the moderately crowded store. They passed aisles with coolers and sleeping bags before he stopped in front of an array of air mattresses.

"What do you think of this?" He motioned at a queen-size model with a built-in pump. "We could set it up in the den and you and I can bunk there. Your parents can have our bed and then we have the two guest rooms for Grandma Ang and Mary and Joan."

She nodded, pulling out the box to look at the details. "That's a really good idea."

He folded his arms and smiled. "Don't sound so surprised, Rollins. It's been known to happen."

She gave him a look that was half amused and half admonishing.

Putting the box back on the shelf, she said, "But we don't have to buy one." She turned to him and folded her arms. "I'm sure we know someone who'd let us borrow an air mattress."

"Yeah, but," he began with a shrug, "I figure it won't be the last time we'll need it so . . ."

Catherine smiled at the implication. "Okay. It does look a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the sofa."

He nodded his agreement as he picked up the box.

She hip-checked him playfully. "Not that I ever mind using you as a pillow."

He leaned his head closer to hers and said, "Don't need to be on the sofa for that."

"Mm, I'll keep that in mind," she said with a quick eyebrow waggle.

He nodded as if impressed. "You're improving, Rollins."

They shared a smile and made their way to the front of the store to pay for the air mattress.

* * *

><p>Steve parked at Foodland, and he and Catherine walked toward the front doors.<p>

"I'm actually surprised Mom sent the list because she knows this means we'll have paid for everything," Catherine said.

"If I know your mother, she has a plan to balance that out. We'll be finding twenty dollar bills for a month after they leave."

She laughed and nodded her agreement.

"And just know this won't be our only time here," she said as they entered the store. "There will definitely be a return trip needed. Probably more than one."

She grabbed a cart and he did the same.

"Yeah, your dad told me that. How he always manages to get something wrong and has to come back."

"Mmhmm. Or Grandma Ang will get an idea for something to add to the meal."

He pointed and nodded at that.

"Okay," she said, pulling out her phone. "I emailed you half the list. Want to make it interesting?"

"Last one done makes dinner tonight?"

"You're on."

He smirked and pulled out his own phone. "May the best man win."

"Get ready to don an apron, then," she countered.

With identical smiles, they pushed their carts in opposite directions.

Twenty minutes later, Steve's cart was three-quarters full and he was standing in the chip aisle staring at the shelves.

He picked up a bag of pretzels and looked down at the list on his phone, his brow furrowed. Shaking his head, he replaced the bag and swiped at the phone screen to make a call.

"_Hey_," Catherine answered. "_No fair trying to distract me._"

"What are 'flat pretzels'?" he asked.

"_Huh?_"

"On the list. She's got 'flat pretzels.' I can't figure out what that means." He motioned at the shelves though of course she couldn't see him. "There are pretzel sticks, pretzel rods, regular . . ." he fumbled for the word, "pretzel-shaped pretzels." He picked up another bag. "There's something called 'pretzel snaps,' they kind of look like waffles. Do you think that's it?"

"_I think she wants them for some kind of dip so probably not._"

"You're not just saying that so you don't have to–"

"_Steve!_"

"All right, all right, I'll keep looking."

He put the bag back and ended the call. He squatted down, moving a few of the bags around to see if there were any other varieties he'd missed.

"Can I help you find something, sir?" A young female voice asked.

Steve stood and turned toward the woman in a green Foodland smock. She startled as she recognized him.

"Oh! Commander McGarrett."

"Hi," he said.

She smoothed a hand over her ponytail. "It's um . . . I'm . . . I'm Katie? Remember? I brought you that mango salsa . . ."

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "I remember.

She smiled brightly at that and asked again, "Can I help you find something?"

"Uh, yeah, maybe. Flat pretzels."

"Flat pretzels?"

"Yeah. Catherine's mother needs them for some kind of dip she's making for Thanksgiving."

Katie's shoulders dropped slightly along with her expression.

"Any idea?" he asked.

She shook herself and then bit her lip, thinking. "Maybe she means Pretzel Crisps. Those are over in the deli section."

He blinked in confusion. "The deli section?"

"Yeah. Follow me."

He swung his cart around and followed her though the store until they reached a display by the deli counter.

"Here we go," Katie said, handing him a bag. "Pretzel Crisps. Do you think that's right?"

He nodded. "Those look like flat pretzels to me." He smiled at her and gestured with the bag. "Thanks a lot."

"Hey," Catherine said, approaching with her own full cart. "I thought I had all the deli stuff on my half of the list."

"Apparently flat pretzels are in the deli section," he said, showing her the bag.

"You found them. Great."

"I can't take the credit. I had help," he said, nodding to Katie.

"Ah," Catherine said. She smiled warmly at the young woman. "Thanks, Katie."

"Oh, um, you're welcome." She fidgeted as she looked between them. "Um . . . did you need help finding anything else?"

"No, I just have one more thing on my list and I _do_ know where the Clubhouse crackers are," Steve said. He looked at Catherine. "You need any help? Or you good?"

"Oh, I'm done," she said, trying to hide a satisfied smile.

He inhaled, his mouth twisting as he held her gaze.

"I'll meet you by checkout," he said, starting to push his cart away.

"Okay. You better grab something to make for dinner," she called after him.

He stopped and looked back at her. She smiled broadly, her tongue poking out between her teeth. He turned and continued walking, grumbling about "flat pretzels" as Catherine started to laugh.

A few minutes later, Steve joined Catherine where she was emptying her cart onto the conveyor belt of a checkout lane with the help of Jirou Ko, the store's owner.

"Hey, Steve," Jirou said. "Catherine tells me you guys will have a full house for Thanksgiving this year."

"That's right," Steve said with a smile. He started adding items from his cart to the belt. "How's the family? Your granddaughter must be about . . . what? Five months old now?"

"Yes, I was just showing Catherine pictures," Jirou said, pulling out his phone and showing Steve a photo of a smiling baby girl. "She looks just like her mother at that age."

Steve shared a smile with Catherine.

Jirou looked fondly at the image on the screen before closing it and pocketing his phone. He was reaching into Catherine's cart for the canned pumpkin when something caught his attention behind Steve.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Please excuse me. I need to help my employee with that signage," he said, moving to walk around them. "Good to see you both."

"You, too, Jirou," Steve said.

Catherine squeezed his arm as he passed her. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"To you as well," Jirou said with a smile before turning completely. "Raymond!"

Steve and Catherine chuckled and returned to emptying their carts onto the conveyor belt.

* * *

><p>A half hour later they were in the kitchen. It had taken several trips to bring in all the bags from the truck but they had gotten all the groceries inside and had managed to find room for almost everything. There was no avoiding some spillover onto the counters.<p>

"I don't think the fridge has ever been that full," Steve observed as he closed the appliance's door.

"Nope," Catherine agreed. "The pantry either."

She took a deep breath as he turned to face her.

"Ready for this?" she asked.

"Ready or not, here they come." He tilted his head once quickly with a shrug. "Well, Friday. But . . . yes. Absolutely ready. It's gonna be great," he said confidently.

She shook her head, taking another deep breath. "There is still _so_ much to do."

He stepped closer and ran his hands down her arms, taking her hands in his.

"And it will all get done," he said and squeezed her fingers. "And if it doesn't, that's fine. Because it's family, and they know our lives. They'll understand."

She smiled. "You're right." She pulled him down for a quick kiss. "Thanks."

He nodded once, a half smile on his face.

Her smile widened, and she raised her eyebrows. "So what's for dinner?"

His head fell back as he groaned. "Oh, come on. Extenuating circumstances," he protested as she released his hands. "_Flat pretzels_."

"Nice try, sailor," she said, folding her arms. "But I had my own adventure trying to find Aunt Jemima's Yellow Corn Meal. Which they either don't make anymore or Foodland doesn't stock. I found the closest thing."

He sighed in resignation.

"Lemme know when dinner's ready," she said with a laugh, heading for the doorway. "I'm gonna go test our new air mattress."

He could still hear her laughter as she disappeared from the room, and the thought that soon their home would be filled with even more laughter brought a huge smile to his face.

"Ready or not," he repeated, turning back to the refrigerator.

* * *

><p><em>The Thanksgiving Marathon is coming! Ten days of stories starting this Friday!<em>

_Don't miss a thing! You can still join the mailing list by sending us an email at realmcroll at yahoo dot com with Add me, please! in the subject line._


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